Finding Your Feet
by Totally-Out-Of-It
Summary: The night before a trial, Mike's beer is drugged. In his hazy, distorted state, he goes to the one person he knows he can trust. But will Harvey help or think Mike's fallen back on his promise? Eventual Slash.


A/N: Let it be known that I have never been on drugs. I modeled this experience off internet findings and first hand stories. Don't hate. I tried. Thank you.

* * *

When his head started to hurt, he knew something was up, but he thought it was the bottle sitting on the bar top in front of him. When the bottle started to change colors, he knew exactly what had happened. Somehow, someway, someone had dosed his drink. He didn't know what it was, but he knew he had to get out of the bar and back home before it took serious effect.

Shit. He held his head as the lights in the room started to brighten. He just had to get to the door and call a cab. And then he had to call Harvey. Shit. They had a trial in the morning. He couldn't be high or drugged for a trial. Shit.

Mike stumbled and dropped onto the sidewalk, scuffing his suit and cursing. He flipped over and looked at the men who'd thrown him out of the bar. They stood at the door, grinning. They were big guys, like the ones who had attacked Trevor, so Mike knew he couldn't fight them, but he wanted to. He wanted to punch at least one in the nose.

"Good luck tomorrow," one said.

"You'll be really feeling that one in a minute," the other laughed. He hit his buddy on the arm and they turned to go back inside.

"Feeling what?" Mike asked, getting to his feet. "What did you slip me?"

The two guys slipped back inside, and Mike tried to follow, but a bouncer stopped him. Behind him, Mike could hear one of the men talking to the other bouncers. He was pointing to Mike and said he saw Mike take a pretty heavy dosage of ... shit. Mike didn't even try to get back in the bar. He pulled away from the bouncer and started walking down the street.

LSD. LSD. DSL. DSL? Digital Subscriber Line. Lysergic Acid Diethylamide. What? Mike shook his head and pulled out his phone. How much had they given him? When had they put it in his drink? How long did he have? He felt a little numb as he tried to press buttons on the suddenly far too small screen. He put the phone to his ear and groaned at every ring.

"Harvey," he whined when he heard it pick up. "Harvey some guys at the bar...my beer... whoa. When did they change street lights to be so pretty? Shit. No. My beer...," he paused to hold a street sign and keep his balance.

He needed help. He knew that. Harvey. He needed Harvey. Harvey's place was closer, he rationalized. Closer than his own place. Maybe there, the rat by the drug store wouldn't be dancing. Had he finished telling Harvey what was wrong? Harvey had said he could come over, right?

Where did he put his phone down?

Mike tripped over his feet and into a metal store front sheet. Briefly he thought about how that had probably saved his life because there was probably glass behind it, but the metal guard was down because the store was closed for the night, and wasn't it nice of shop owners to put that there so people didn't fall through their windows?

Mike shook his head and tried to take deep breaths. He could feel his heartbeat quickening. Holy shit. Where was he? The world was so bright, so intense. One foot in front of the other. Breathe. Was he spinning or was that the rainbow God? How had he not seen these colors before? How could it be night time? What time? Ten? No, that's when he went in the bar. Eleven? Was it almost eleven? Was he on his way home?

Mike covered his mouth and snorted. He turned and walked into the nearest building, giggling at the modern art hanging by the elevators. Elevators?

"Elevators," he murmured, pushing the button a few times before realizing the door was already open. He slid inside, feeling like he was floating. Where was he going? There were a million floors in this building. Like Thirty!

He slid his hand over the top ten numbers and then dropped against the back of the elevator as it started to move. The small rumble of the elevator gears made him giggle. It felt like tickling at the same time that it was soothing.

The ding of the elevator pulled him out the doors. He stood in the hallway that greeted him, unsure how he'd gotten there. He squinted up at the ceiling lights and then over to the window. Suddenly he was right at the window, staring out.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "It's so beautiful! Did you ever see anything so pretty? Oh my God! Holy shit!"

And then he felt as though the window wasn't there anymore, like there was no protection between him and the air. His heart sped up and his eyes widened and he backed quickly away from the wall, tripping and falling on his butt.

"Holy shit," he panted, backing away from the window in a crawl. "Holy shit."

"Mike?" a disbelieving voice asked. Mike dropped onto his back and looked at who called to him upside down. He smiled broadly.

"Harvey? Hey,... man," he said and temporarily forgot what he was saying. He frowned then and looked at the ceiling. Where was he?

"Are you high?" Why did everything sound weird? It was like Harvey was in a tunnel. Harvey? When did Harvey get here? "God damn it, Mike."

"Ah!" Mike exclaimed as he remembered something, and his fingers tried to hold onto the ground. The ceiling light was smiling at him. "Bar. I mean, beer."

"You aren't drunk," Harvey's voice said. Harvey's face blocked out the light, and Mike frowned at him.

"She was talking to me. Get out of the way," Mike said.

Harvey looked about to say something angry, but the low sound of a tune rang out. Harvey sighed and stepped out of the way. Mike looked up at the ceiling, but the light woman had left. He thought someone was looking down at him, but he couldn't make out who. Harvey was talking quietly on the phone, first with agitation and then concern. Mike recognized the face looking down at him now. It was searing and blinding and angry. It followed the light rays down toward him and he opened his mouth to call to Harvey, but he couldn't. He just panted and tried to move, but he felt like he didn't even exist anymore.

"Oh God," he panted and willed his eyes to shut. The light burned red through his eyelids.

Someone cursed near his ear and he was lifted from the ground. The red lessened, but his heartbeat stayed constant. He grabbed on to Harvey's arm. He knew it was Harvey. It felt like Harvey. It smelled like Harvey.

A door closed. Was it a door? Or was it the window coming back into existence?

Harvey's apartment was dark. He had turned no lights on to go investigate the yelling in the hall. Mike was released near a couch. Harvey said something but it was so muffled to Mike. His attention was on the city lights and the stars. They burned so brightly, so passionately. He smiled at them for a moment, but the longer he stared the more intense they became.

"Harvey," he whined and shut his eyes. He put his hands to his head and dropped to the floor. He didn't understand! Why did the lady in the light go away? Why did her evil boyfriend try to eat him? Why were the stars trying to grab him? Where was he? How did he get here? Why had someone drugged his beer? His beer, damn it! He needed to see Harvey.

Someone touched his shoulders and he turned and fell against them. He wished he could see properly, but everything had started blending together so that every object looked like a damn sponge painting. He hated Rorschach paintings. What was it supposed to mean?

"I need to see Harvey," he murmured into whoever's chest he was leaned in to. Was there an arm around his shoulder? "I don't know... where he is. Where am I?"

"You're here with me. Don't worry, Mike." It sounded like Harvey, but when had he gotten to Harvey? Was Harvey holding him?

"Harvey," Mike breathed out, his eyes falling shut. He took a deep breath. "I can't see anything."

"That's because your eyes are closed." Yep. It sounded like Harvey. Pointing out the obvious.

"No. I can't...," he opened his eyes and tilted his head up toward Harvey's voice. "Everything's mixing together."

He moved his hand sluggishly up Harvey's chest, trying to find his face but suddenly unable to remember the distance between chest and face. There was the shoulder. The neck. The face. Mike's pinky finger slipped into Harvey's mouth when it opened to say something. Then Harvey took Mike's hand and pulled it away, holding it down by his lap.

"Just relax. It'll pass," he assured. But Mike wasn't so sure.

"But... I don't know how I got here or where...where are we? Where's my phone? What are the details of the case for tomorrow? Shit, Harvey. Why am I here? I'm a fuck up. Shit." Mike cursed and pressed his free hand to his face.

He turned in toward Harvey's chest shut his eyes again. He felt his mother trying to comfort him by petting his hair, but it only mildly helped. He pressed his lips together, his heart rate up again. His mother wasn't here. She was dead. How was she petting him. Logic, his brain tried to remember. Logically... it was Harvey.

It felt nice.

"It'll be fine in the morning," Harvey was saying.

"I can't go to trial in the morning," Mike realized through his fog.

"Not even a little bit," Harvey agreed, thumping him on the head before going back to petting.

"Ow," Mike complained lazily. He could smell Harvey, like a mix of scents so strong they were almost a word. He wanted to relax. Really he did. But his mind felt like the longer he sat there, the faster it moved. He was too awake to relax, but his body still felt like it was moving away from him. He couldn't move the way he wanted.

"What did they look like?" Harvey asked. Mike shut his eyes and knit his brow. Harvey wanted the guy who'd drugged him. They were the guys who'd shoved him out of the bar.

"Big. Tall. Light hair. One had a big nose. He had a tattoo," he said, remembering the spot where the smaller of the two had smacked before going inside. "It was a circle of some kind."

"If you saw it again, would you recognize it?" Harvey sounded dangerous, and Mike pulled away from him in shock.

"Are you... Are you mad at me?" he asked, disbelievingly. He could make out Harvey's face, blurry as it was, and it was as stoic as always. Or... Maybe not? Mike squinted and leaned closer, but he ripped back when he noticed Harvey's face was all he could see. Too close. "What?" he asked as though Harvey had spoken.

"Mike, listen closely. You may not remember this tomorrow, but I'm going to say it anyway. I am not mad at you," Harvey said. He was holding Mike's shoulders, keeping him upright and facing him. Mike didn't remember the movement.

"You're not mad?" Mike asked. He knit his brow and felt a rush of euphoria at the same time. Harvey wasn't angry. Harvey didn't blame him. Mike should have noticed his drink was wrong. He should have noticed someone as big as one of those guys sitting next to him. He had. The bigger one had sat next to him. He remembered. But Harvey wasn't angry about it. He wasn't blaming him. Mike grinned and then frowned, his eyes pricking with tears.

"I'm not mad at _you_," Harvey repeated. "Are you... crying?"

"God, Harvey," Mike muttered. "Thank you." and he threw himself at Harvey's chest. Harvey tipped backward but caught himself, and they sat on the floor in a tangled mess, with Harvey upright and Mike wrapped around him.

Harvey seemed unsure, but Mike didn't take note. Suddenly, and with growing intensity, he felt his insides shaking. He squeezed Harvey tighter, looking for stability. Was he shaking outside? Harvey didn't seem to be moving. But Mike felt like a jackhammer. He whimpered softly, and Harvey pried him off to take a look at him.

The world was shivering. The darkness seemed to grow in the apartment until Mike was sure the world didn't exist outside of him and Harvey. Even Harvey... oh god. The darkness was overpowering. Harvey was blurring into the shadows.

"Mike?" Harvey asked, concerned. Mike? Oh. That was his name. Mike shook his head, sure that he was physically shivering now.

"Oh God," he murmured. He felt the high of the pills, still able to recognize that for what it was, intensifying, but it wasn't fun. It was terrifying. He took deep, quick breaths and tried to concentrate on Harvey while the darkness moved and twisted around them, taking over couches and windows. "Turn-Turn on the lights," he breathed out, eyes darting around.

"What's wrong?" Harvey asked even as he stood up.

"The shadows... there's something in the shadows," Mike panted, pressing his back into the couch and trying to tell himself it was just the drug. There wasn't anyone hiding in the shadows. There was no creature made of shadows. But it was hard to stay logical when the walls were morphing around like they would collapse at any minute and Harvey wasn't there to provide stability and, holy shit. Oh shit. "Oh shit. Harvey!" he whined.

The lights came on. A year had passed, it seemed to Mike. But he found it easier to breathe with the lights on, so it only felt like ten minutes before Harvey was back, kneeling beside him. He said Mike's name a few times before it occurred to Mike that he was supposed to reply. He turned his head to Harvey and let out a slow breath.

"Shit, Harvey. I'm dying, aren't I?" he asked. His stomach was rolling, but he refused to get sick on Harvey's plush carpet.

"You're not dying. You're just having a bad trip," Harvey explained. "Mike, listen to my voice. It's going to be fine. Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?"

Mike swallowed several times and then nodded, reminding himself this was just drugs. It would end. He just had to ride it out. "Water," he said. Harvey was gone again before Mike realized it. He dropped his head back on the couch and concentrated on breathing. The backs of his eyelids seemed suddenly spotted with tiny amebas, and he could only take them for so long before he had to open his eyes again.

Shit, the walls were filled with weather maps, cold air fronts and heat waves moving across the white blanks spaces. Mike turned his eyes to the windows and found car lights were in the sky, driving around and crashing together. He groaned and grimaced. Why would people keep driving into each other. God, no. Those were stars, Mike. They're stars!

"Mike." Harvey's voice was forceful, and Mike snapped his head around to look at him. There was a cup in front of his face. Water, Mike remembered. He took the cup and drank it slowly. He only got a few sips down before he set the cup aside. It felt like the water was a river in his throat. He felt nauseas.

Harvey picked up Mike's hand and held it forcefully. Mike looked up at him, sure he looked pitiful. Shit, there was a heat wave heading to Alaska on the wall by the front door. Harvey put a hand on his shoulder and nodded to him. Holding Mike's hand was probably uncomfortable for Harvey, but it made Mike feel much better, much more grounded and real. For the first time since he was lying in the hallway, he felt solid.

This wasn't like him. He wasn't like this. Mike was a bit ridiculous and naive and stupid sometimes, but he was downright pathetic and sad right now. He had to hold on to Harvey's hand just to make the world stop spinning. God. This wasn't like him. Shit. He shouldn't be like this. The world wasn't like this. He wasn't like this.

"I know," Harvey said, and Mike realized he must have spoken out loud. "You're very smart, Mike."

"Why are you being so nice?" Mike asked. He felt his head being squished and it made him want to throw up.

"Why did you come to me for help?" Harvey asked in response. Mike nodded, but the motion made him dizzy. He tried to motion to his mouth to show he needed something to throw up into, but moving his arm made him dizzier.

Harvey must be psychic because he had a bucket with him. A bucket that had a halo. It must be an angelic bucket. Mike almost felt bad tainting it the moment he had it solidly in his hands. Harvey just rubbed his shoulder while he wretched, and Mike once again wondered about the contact. It felt nice, personal, intimate, and he wondered if that was because of the drug or because Harvey actually was being intimate.

When he had stopped hurling but hadn't pulled his face from the bucket for about five minutes, he spit just for something to do. What time was it? Mike set the bucket to the side and leaned against Harvey again. Harvey had a hand towel, given to him by fairies who didn't want him to get up and move away from Mike, and he wiped Mike's mouth with it before dropping it neatly in Mike's lap.

"What time is it?" Mike asked, head spinning and entirely filled with Harvey.

"Almost midnight," Harvey said, checking his watch. Mike groaned as he pulled away from Harvey and leaned back against the couch. "What?" the older lawyer asked.

"You have court in the morning... at eight," he grumbled.

"Nine," Harvey corrected. Mike whined.

"Do you have to-? I mean... Oh, forget it. Go to sleep before those fairies eat you," Mike ordered, feeling himself fading into a daze. Were the fairies the ones with the towel or was he talking about the people at court? He giggled. Louis as a fairy. Rachel dressed like Tinkerbell. Damn, Jessica made a hot fairy queen. Why wasn't that bitch married? Crap, did he just call her a bitch? Man he hoped he hadn't said that one out loud. Harvey might use it to blackmail him. Which might be cool if it was cool blackmail... like the kind where you're two guys hiding out from the rest of the company and the world so that no one finds out you aren't a lawyer and kicks you out because the two of you were destined to be together for, like, ever. And Mike could see their future office, all pastel colors and weather maps and polka dots and-

"What?" he asked, sure he'd heard a noise. "Harvey?" he asked, realizing his boss had left him alone.

"Relax, Mike. I didn't go to the moon or anything." Harvey set a new glass of water down, replacing the old one. He leaned down, not sitting where he'd been, and slipped an arm behind Mike's shoulders and under his arms. "Alright. Up you go," he said.

Mike complained because it made the cold front on the wall spin around the room, making him shiver, but he let Harvey move him from the floor to the couch anyway. The cold went away after a moment because Harvey laid a blanket over him, which Mike instantly clung to. He shut his eyes, waiting for his head to take a note from the cold front and stop moving. Nausea in waves. Damn, he hated the beach.

"Mike," Harvey said, bringing him back again. The carpet definitely looked like ocean waves now, and while Harvey's pants looked wet from the knees down, Mike guessed it must be in his head because Harvey didn't seem to notice. "Drink some water. The bucket is right here if you feel ill again. Mike, don't throw up on my couch or my carpet. I'm going to sleep. If you need me, call for me. Don't try to get up. Stay here. Don't move. Understand, Mike?"

"Stay on the couch," Mike muttered. Harvey nodded and rubbed Mike's shoulder a little more.

"Good. I'll be back to check on you in the morning, alright? Try to just concentrate on breathing and you'll get through this. We'll get through this. Alright, Mike?" he said. Oh it was good to hear his own name spoken so often by Harvey, especially when it didn't involve him being in trouble or having to work. Work was stupid. He loved work. He got to be a lawyer and see Harvey every day. "Alright," Harvey said as though Mike had given any indication of listening anymore.

He ruffled Mike's hair, bent down and placed a kiss on his forehead. It lasted long enough to pull Mike back from caring about the candles hovering by the roof and his fear of the house burning down. He had just enough strength and will power to catch hold of Harvey's shirt when the other tried to move away and go to bed. Harvey looked down at where he'd been caught and then to Mike's flashing, spaced out, and yet totally coherent eyes.

Mike smiled goofily. Harvey sighed and eased Mike's fingers from his shirt. He stood and walked away from the couch, to which Mike frowned intensely. Had he imagined the kiss to the forehead? Harvey seemed annoyed now. God, but he didn't want Harvey to leave the room. What if Mike died over night? His head just kept spinning and even with the lights on, he worried about the shadows. What if his heart gave out or the bugs got him. Bugs happened, right? He'd heard people see bugs while tripping. Thank God that hadn't happened yet. But if they did, who would be around to remind him he was hallucinating, to remind him who he was and where he was and that it would all be over soon? Where would Harvey be, with his comforting hands and his kiss good night? Mike pressed his lips together and willed himself not to cry. He tried to remember he was being illogical, but it didn't seem to matter.

And then Harvey was back, laying a sleeping bag on the ground by the couch, covered with a fluffy blanket. He also had a big white pillow and a second blanket over his shoulder. Mike watched in awe as Harvey laid down on the ground - oh the GROUND - and looked like he would stay there all night.

Mike reached his hand out from where it was dangling off the couch. Harvey noticed the movement and let out another sigh. He took Mike's hand and propped his arm up so he wouldn't drop Mike's hand when he fell asleep. A smile broke Mike's heart and must have been on his face too, because Harvey looked up at him and nearly grinned too. Then Harvey closed his eyes and seemed to fall instantly asleep... although Mike's time was wonky. It felt like an instant while feeling like forever too.

For what seemed to be hours but was unreadable to Mike, the false lawyer laid awake, concentrating on the feeling of Harvey's hand in his, on Harvey's steady breathing, and on the pounding of his own heart. The steady sync of breaths and heartbeats drummed in his ears until he must have drifted to sleep.

* * *

Internal clocks were great but alarm clocks were better. When the alarm went off in his room, Harvey got up off the floor and went to shut it off before it could wake Mike up as well. His back was sore and his arms and legs ached, but one look at the young lawyer sleeping on his couch made him think it may have been worth it. Mike had finally fallen asleep sometime after midnight, and Harvey didn't want to wake him up any sooner than the drugs did. Mike would still be useless until noon, but Harvey wouldn't be home before then anyway.

As Harvey pulled on his shirt and buttoned his cuffs, he wondered if leaving Mike alone was a bad idea. Maybe he should call Donna. She could look after him while Harvey sorted some issues out. He definitely wasn't going to let this incident slide. Mike may not be entirely to blame, but somebody was and Harvey had a good idea of who.

Harvey pulled out his cell and dialed Donna with one button. He stood by the couch, watching Mike closely in case the kid woke up, but he was out like a light somehow despite the hyped up drugs in his system. Mike's hand still hung off the couch, making Harvey look down at his own which had held on to it all night.

"Yeah, Donna. I need you to watch Mike for me while I go to court... Don't be stupid. He's not hung over. You were right. Someone slipped him some kind of psychedelic. He's sleeping right now... Yeah, I know. He'll probably wake up by the time you get here. I can't imagine the drugs will let him off that easy. So are you in?... Great. Thanks. I have to head out the door now. You have your own key," he said and ended the call.

It would be fine with Harvey, staying here all day to make sure Mike got through this in one piece, both mentally and physically, but he couldn't ruin his record and his career for a bad trip. Besides that, no one enacted revenge by sitting around doing nothing. Harvey slipped his phone into his pocket and took a deep breath, staring determinedly out the windows toward the courthouse.

Revenge. There would definitely be revenge.

A half an hour later, he was sitting in a court room when his phone vibrated. Luckily for Donna, the trial hadn't started yet. Harvey glanced down at the message and frowned. The message said Mike had been awake when she got there and curled in a ball, but she had him talking now, and he seemed calm. While that was good, Harvey couldn't help thinking of all the ways he could beat the living crap out of whoever had dared to slip Mike the drugs.

The defense had just taken their seats. The sounds of their briefcases hitting the table pulled Harvey's gaze. The lawyer was looking at him and smirked when he saw Harvey slip his phone away. Harvey kept a steady stare on the short man. Short and arrogant. Short and smug. His client seemed calm beside him although the poor guy had been a nervous wreck yesterday. Something had changed his tune. Behind the two men were two large men that caught Harvey's attention when they both glanced in his direction.

_'Big. Tall. Light hair. One had a big nose.'_

These men definitely fit the description. They appeared to be brothers, although looks can be deceiving. They had muscles that would have trumped Mike's skill level in a completely coherent state, at least the older of the two did. The younger had muscles the same size as Mike's. And their hair was a light brown. Harvey had pictured blonde when Mike said 'light hair', but this made more sense. Mike would probably have said blonde if he meant blonde. They shared a big nose trait. Must run in the family, Harvey thought.

_'He had a tattoo. - It was a circle of some kind.'_

He couldn't see a tattoo. Where would it be? Mike had said there was a tattoo and then... He'd shrugged his shoulder. Harvey's eyes went to the big one's shoulder but he was wearing a jacket over a t-shirt and covering his arms from view.

Harvey looked back at his opponent and smiled sourly before looking forward. They thought knocking Mike out of the proceedings was going to distract Harvey, throw him off his game, keep him angry or nervous at Mike, keep his mind off the trial and off them.

They were wrong.

All they did was guarantee that Harvey would mop this whole courtroom floor with their big ugly faces - all three of them. Harvey smirked as the judge called the court to order. Let the game begin.

* * *

"What would you like for dinner? Harvey can afford anything so pick whatever you want and I'll order it," Donna said. Mike groaned and leaned on the back of the couch. "Don't groan at me, Mister. Harvey told me to watch you, so I'm watching you."

"He wanted you to watch me cause I was tripping. I'm not tripping anymore. Seriously, can I go home now?" Mike whined and looked at the roof.

"Nope. Not a chance. You're staying until Harvey gets back to check on you," the executive assistant said and moved toward Harvey's room.

It was nearly six o'clock and Mike hadn't be hallucinating, even a little bit, since about eleven thirty. Without the drugs, he wasn't panicking but he was also extremely bored. Donna wasn't letting him watch TV or listen to music, afraid he might have a random flashback or panic attack.

Just because he'd been panicking when she walked in didn't mean he would panic now at every sound! Besides, it could have been worse. He could have decided life wasn't worth living with the nausea and fear of the trip and gone into the kitchen when Harvey wasn't there and stabbed himself. But he didn't. He'd been freaking out but he'd been logical. He'd told himself it would pass, it would be over, and while his mind fought to tell him otherwise, he fought just as hard to remind himself it was only LSD. He didn't know the dosage or if the amount would extend the time, but he knew it would pass eventually, and it did. Mike was a reasonable, intelligent person, and he didn't need Donna keeping him under house arrest.

Wait.

Where was Donna? Harvey's bathroom? Mike pushed off the couch and slowly moved toward the door. When he didn't see Donna anywhere and it seemed the water running really was in Harvey's bathroom, he made for the door. His hand hit the cold handle and ripped it open, prepared for a getaway, but he found his way blocked.

"Harvey," Mike said brilliantly. Harvey was there, in his fine suit, with his hand reaching for the door handle.

"Mike," Harvey greeted back. "May I come in?"

Which was a stupid question. It was Harvey's house. Still, Mike stood aside to let Harvey in as though it was his instead. Harvey stepped over the threshold and shut the door, pulling it from Mike's grasp. Mike watched it click shut, his chances of escape dwindling to microscopic numbers.

"Oh, don't tell me you were leaving just now. I guess I got home just in time." Harvey put a hand on Mike's shoulder and led him away from the door and to the window. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, dropping it on the couch.

Mike narrowed his eyes and shifted his head to get a better look at his boss. "Oh my God. Did somebody punch you?"

Harvey shrugged and turned away to look toward his bedroom. "Donna's in my bathroom?" he asked.

"Yeah. Harvey, look at me," Mike ordered, trying to grab for Harvey's face. Harvey grabbed his hand to stop him, though. "Were you fighting somebody? Is that why you're so late? My God, Harvey! What were you thinking?"

Harvey's right cheekbone was a slightly swollen, red and purple bruise. When he tried to smirk, Harvey instead winced and hid the bruise from sight with his hand.

"Well I was thinking someone needed to teach you how to fight," Harvey said.

"So what? This was a test or something? I know how to fight Harvey. I used to wrestle in school." Mike tugged on his hand and Harvey let it drop before curling his fingers in and pushing his fist into his pocket. "Are your knuckles bruised?"

"You know, I forgot how picky you are about details," Harvey grunted and walked away from the window.

"Harvey-," Mike tried again, but Harvey interrupted him.

"Listen closely, cause I'm only going to say this once. Something had to be done to the guys who drugged you. I knew who it was, so after the trial I confronted them. I threatened sanctions, trials, the whole thing. They didn't fall for it. One of them took a cheap shot. I took one back. Don't worry about it. It's all taken care of," he said and pulled his bruised hand out to wave it as an example.

Mike walked over and snatched up Harvey's hand. With his eyes on the knuckles, he didn't see Harvey bite his cheek. "You got this bruising from a few punches?" he asked, starting to smile. "God, I didn't realize you were so delicate."

Harvey pulled his hand back and rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he said. "I fixed the problem for you, alright?"

"For me?" Mike asked, smirking a little and shaking his head. "My problem was keeping my head together while I rolled around on your couch. This was _your_ problem. You sought revenge for both of us. You must have been more upset about it than _I_ was."

Harvey opened his mouth to give some expert rebuttal, but Mike cut him off with a wave of his hand and then put a hand on Harvey's shoulder. It was far less intimate than the hand holding from last night, even more so than the kiss on his forehead, but at least it was physical. He made sure he had Harvey's eyes on him before he spoke.

"Thanks, Harvey," he said. "Don't worry. I won't let it go to my head."

Harvey just stared at him for a moment, and Mike worried the contact wasn't appreciated or perhaps he'd said something wrong. He could read Harvey at work, but this was off the clock. He didn't know Harvey's feelings about situations like this. He didn't know what to expect. He definitely didn't expect Harvey to put a hand on the back of his head and pull him forcefully against him. Mike stumbled into Harvey and tensed, his hands barely touching Harvey's sides. Harvey still had one hand in his pocket and one on Mike's head, directing him to a shoulder.

"You should," Harvey said. "You should let it go to your head. You should feel comfortable coming to me for help."

"I did. I came here even when I couldn't find my feet," Mike reminded.

"No, I mean, you shouldn't doubt that I'll have your back," Harvey corrected. His arm felt warm where it rested across Mike's shoulders. "I know I can be harsh sometimes, and it really is for your own good most of the time... But you work hard _for_ me, so you should expect the same _from_ me."

Mike stared straight ahead, Harvey's perfectly pressed shirt too close for focus and the brightly lit, fancy apartment beyond it. He could feel Harvey's heartbeat faintly through his clothes, or maybe that pounding drum was his own. Mike's hands slipped farther around Harvey and then eased until he was hugging his partner.

Harvey pulled his hand from his pocket and wrapped it around Mike's back, his other still on Mike's head. He pressed his lips together, not used to showing emotion like this for anyone he wasn't planning on leaving in the morning.

It was different, hugging Mike. He was strong, mostly muscle, and there was nothing between them. His embrace was soft, just as unsure and nervous about the situation as Harvey, but Harvey found he liked the feeling of strong arms instead of soft arms, even if it was a soft hug.

"You scared me," Harvey murmured. "I thought you were high. I thought you were giving up." He thought Mike was giving up on the company, on his dreams, on Harvey.

"And then I was going crazy in your living room," Mike said with a chuckle. He hugged Harvey a little closer. He doubted the hug would happen twice, and it felt good, the strength wrapped in his arms and holding him back. Harvey was stronger than him, and it felt safe. "Sorry." and he couldn't be held accountable for the waver in his voice.

"Are you crying?" Harvey asked teasingly, voice quiet. Mike shook his head but knit his brow and buried his face into Harvey's shoulder, holding him tight. Harvey pat Mike's back and then changed his mind and pet his hair instead. He wasn't good at comforting. "It's alright," he said. "You're fine."

"Thank you," Mike mumbled into Harvey's jacket. "For everything." For giving him a job, for trusting him, for taking him in last night, for not holding it against him, for getting revenge, for being so damn nice, just for everything.

Harvey nodded but said nothing, and Mike thought that was for the best. He took several deep breaths and shook his head as he pulled away. He motioned to Harvey's shoulder and laughed shakily. He had cried a little, because there were small wet spots there. Harvey brushed his fingers over it as though the spots would fall off and smiled.

He motioned for Mike to come forward, as though consenting to something, and Mike leaned forward and gave Harvey a kiss on the cheek. It was brief and mostly harmless, and Harvey seemed amused by it. He put his hand on Mike's cheek, caressed it a bit and then gave it a small, chiding smack.

"From now on, be careful who you let sit next to you at bars and stop drinking alone. Seriously, you're not a frat boy anymore... Hang on, were you ever a frat boy? You failed college right?" Harvey asked but it wasn't serious. He turned to go back to the kitchen and Mike frowned in annoyance. "Oh don't look like that. What do you want to eat? I'll have Donna order something."

God, Donna and Harvey had one brain, didn't they?

"Pizza. It's what I used to order when I pulled all nighters in my _fraternity_," he said, emphasizing the word.

"Right," Harvey said, obviously doubtful. He was grinning a bit, and Mike couldn't help but grin as well, despite the conversation.

"Hang on. How did you know I wasn't high?" Mike asked. His memory was hazy and filled with light princesses, but he was pretty sure Harvey hadn't been pleased to see him at first. "Who called you last night?"

"Donna. She said someone slipped something into your drink," Harvey explained, opening a bottle he'd pulled from his fridge.

"How did Donna know, though?" Mike stepped up, reached in the fridge, and grabbed an identical bottle. Harvey took it away and put it back. "Hey!"

"My house. My rules. You don't need any more beer for a couple days, I think. And you called Donna, idiot. You thought you called me, but you called her by mistake. She was still on the phone when you dropped it. Lucky for you, someone nice walking by heard her on it and picked it up. It'll be on your desk tomorrow morning. Then she called me, by which point you were rolling around in the hallway annoying my neighbors," Harvey explained and pushed Mike away from the fridge, to which he protested.

"If I had been high, would you just have left me in the hall?" Mike asked.

"I'd have seriously considered it," Harvey admitted and took a seat on the couch. Mike dropped down next to him and Harvey gave him a look that said this wasn't some half priced sofa and he should be careful how hard he falls on to it.

"You need to just admit you care and you'd have taken me in regardless of what was wrong with me," he said and scooted closer to Harvey, their legs barely touching.

"I left you out there when you were drunk, didn't I?" Harvey asked, but his arm went around the back of the couch behind Mike and he tapped his shoe against Mike's.

"Yeah. That was harsh," Mike complained and tapped back. He looked at Harvey, first as though having the door slammed in his drunken face was still offending him and then just with a smile to show he was playful. Harvey smirked and just drank from his bottle, tapping back.

They kept up playing this odd form of footsies until Harvey accidentally, maybe on purpose, stepped on Mike's bare foot. Mike whined and pulled his foot back.

"Thank God. Don't get me wrong. It was cute and all, but you'd be better off dropping the beer and just getting on with making out, because the footsy thing can only satiate a girl's imagination for so long," Donna said, leaning in the doorway to Harvey's room. Mike flushed. He'd forgotten she was there. "Speaking of which, Mike, someone needs to teach you to aim. Kisses go on lips, not on cheeks."

"She has a point," Harvey agreed, motioning to Donna with his beer.

"What?" Mike asked, looking to Harvey in shock. Then Harvey was right there in his face, and he pressed their lips together. It was brief, but it happened... unless Mike was still hallucinating.

Harvey leaned back to his previous position and sipping his bottle while Mike still sat there, slowly turning his head to look at him. He looked awestruck. His mind tried to catch up, but his heart was distractingly loud. The fake lawyer stared at Harvey, who just smirked back at him like a pompous, rich bastard. Oh wait. He _was_ a pompous, rich bastard. A smile twitched at the corners of Mike's lips and then he looked bashful, rubbing a hand over his hair and looking away from both of his viewers. Harvey had kissed him, and that was more of a dream than any of the drugs had given him. He was almost glad for the panic attacks and the shadow creatures and Harvey's bruised cheekbone and raging vengeance. It all seemed kind of worth it right now.

"Oh, this is going to be bad for business," Donna said, and Mike was mostly sure she was just teasing.


End file.
